


All About Serena

by Catheryne



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12346701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catheryne/pseuds/Catheryne
Summary: The last thing that Chuck expected when he walked into the club that night was the sight of the one woman he ever loved dropping her clothes onto the dirty floor.





	All About Serena

Prologue

The service was simple.

Serena was dressed in a classic Valentino beaded satin gown, with her hair like loose spun gold around her face. Blair knew exactly what she would look like, because she was the one who made the arrangements.

Even the blue motif, she had decided—and worked forty eight hours to get all the white and blue flowers delivered, so the entire venue was littered and doused in the color of the clouds and the sky.

Blair had stood silently for an interminable moment at the steps of the church. She could see Chuck standing there at the front with Eric. He looked resplendent there, like always—grim, somber, with his hands clasped behind him.

Lilly was crying, and Bart was right beside her holding her hand. Eleanor, even in her busiest calendar month, made it back to Manhattan to sit in the front row.

For all intents and purposes, and for all the logical reasons, this event was going to be on the front page of news magazines all around the country. Elite Manhattan was in attendance, with the floundering old money, and the nouveau rich. Everyone who mattered was there—from socialites to billionaires, from matinee idols to novelists.

For Blair, it was like walking on air in a foggy afternoon. Maybe it was the drugs to calm her down, the ones she pushed away so aimlessly the liquid still burned in her veins. She managed to put one foot in front of the other, and even then, she stumbled. Of course, her father was there beside her to walk her down the long narrow aisle. Fathers should always be there. The murmur of voices reached Chuck, and he turned towards the doorway in his smart suit. His gaze, when it fell on her, was sad. He seemed to want to go to her, and she wished she would.

Her father's hand was steady as he grasped her elbow. "Easy, Blair." And she gave him a tight smile before managing another step in her white heels.

Four steps. It took her four steps before her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the marble floor. All around her she heard the flurry of activity, and then saw the lightning bursts of cameras flashing as she stayed there, palms against the cold floor. She wanted to raise her head to tell them she was fine—she really did. Instead, she was blinded by the unwelcome attention of the photographers.

And then she heard the quiet, angry voice commanding the men to leave her. She was lifted into familiar arms, and rushed to a small private room at the back of the church.

"I told you, Blair," came Chuck's voice, "you didn't need to come."

She lifted tired, dull eyes to his. "She would have come if it were me."

His nostrils flared at the response, and he grasped her upper arms then pulled her against him. His kiss burned into her hair. "It would've never been you," was his harsh response.

This was going to end up in a gossip tv show. She was willing to wager her entire college tuition that someone had a video of her spill by now, complete with Serena's stepbrother—the billion dollar baby Charles Bass—take her up into his arms and take her into sanctuary, away from prying lenses. What better way to flesh out an already tawdry story.

" _Blair, I have news about Serena." She remembered taking that phone call from Dan Humphrey five days before. She had not even known that Dan and Serena were still in such close contact that Dan would learn anything about her best friend before Blair even did._

" _She's in Paris," she told him. "She has a shoot today and runway tomorrow. You would know that. You're a journalist," she finished with a hint of a tease._

_There was an audible breath, and Blair noticed for the first time that it trembled. "Turn on your tv."_

_As if possessed, she reached for the remote control from Chuck's side of the bed. He stirred in his sleep, and Blair murmured an assurance so that he would fall back. "Where?"_

" _Channel 13."_

_Her hand fell heavily on Chuck's arm, and she started shaking him awake the moment she saw the headlines. The main screen itself was not appalling. It seemed like a video tribute to a model-cum-socialite. "Chuck," she gasped._

" _I had to tell you before you heard it from anyone else," she heard from the other end of the line. Wordlessly, she pushed the button to hang up, then sat up as she watched the news._

" _Oh God," she sobbed. Beside her, Chuck rose on his elbow and looked up at her. "They found Serena dead in her hotel room in Paris," Blair choked out. At her words, Chuck's brows furrowed in confusion. He sat up and drew her tightly against him, then turned his gaze at the tv. He groped around for his phone, then called his father._

Part 1

"Come in, Mr Bass."

Chuck nodded, and stepped inside the darkened club. The first thing he noticed was that the music surrounding him was digital, and immediately approved. His eyes scanned the booths against the walls of the large room, and noted the luxurious red velvet and black leather fittings of the cushions. His accountant had not been kidding when he mentioned that this particular burlesque club was far above the level of sophistication that even Manhattan could offer.

Then again, this was Hollywood glamour. He wondered if he touched the leather he would discover that it was only special effects that made it seem so smooth and pliable.

"Would you like a booth, Mr Bass, so you can enjoy the show in private?" came the smooth question from the woman who had ushered him in. The enunciation was perfect, he thought. It was almost as if she was a speech student before she found her calling in the club. She was wearing a black lace and bone corset that flattened and pushed up her breasts. He almost winced. That had to be uncomfortable.

He answered confidently, "I'd like to be up and center, so I can see clearly what it is I'm investing my money in."

The woman's smile was relieved. He led him to a private table right in front of the stage. "You picked a good night to visit. We have our most popular attraction tonight."

"Really?" he replied, intrigued.

The woman gestured to the stage, and stepped back behind Chuck so he could appreciate a full view. "It's the Virgin Queen."

What followed seemed like a theater production and not a striptease. The curtains to the stage closed, and Chuck observed quick shadows running around setting up what seemed to be a grand Renaissance throne. The stage was filled with fog. He could see the smoke seeping from under the heavy curtains. There was cathedral music, and Chuck smirked. Zealots were going to shut down this show the moment they heard about the organ music. And then the curtains flew open with a resounding zip.

The organ music died down, and Chuck observed the redhead sitting in the throne at the center of the stage, with her head bowed down. She was robed heavily in royal garments, and there was a lot of them. All the better to tease you with, he thought. The choreographer was genius. Now if the woman's face was virginal too, and they managed to swing an innocent looking hard up chick into playing a stripping queen, then that meant this club's management was stellar and he was not going to change a single thing.

A saucy Scottish folk song started playing, and the queen rose while moving her hips to the beat. He could not see the face, and he was a little disappointed at the possibility that the tease was set up so well but they could not find a woman with a face that fit the character.

Slowly, her head rose. There was a smattering of applause from the corner. His usherette whispered into his ear, "She's a star. She's already got fans, and she only came onboard a week ago."

Chuck nodded slowly. The queen revealed that she was wearing a mask, and he heard the groans around him, from men he suspected had already memorized the act. She gave a playful smirk, then a wave. There was something in those lips that curved and shone, and Chuck frowned. The queen lifted her hand and pulled one pin out of her red hair, sending locks tumbling onto her shoulders. She turned to show them her back, then placed a hand over her lips. Slowly, she walked to the steps and interacted with the audience by leaning over one table and reaching for the man's hand, then placing it in her hair.

Practiced likely by several visits the past week, the man knew to take one pin out of her hair, sending the opposite side of the pile of hair tumbling down as well, much to the audience's delight. She gave her participating audience a peck on the cheek.

"She's fabulous, isn't she, Mr Bass?"

He grew cold, because he would not mistake her for anyone else in the world. Fifteen months of searching for her, and this was what he would find. The queen hopped up on the table of her volunteer, then presented her foot to the man. She jutted up her chin, as if she was commanding a lowly servant. The man took off the shoe and handed it to her, and she promptly tossed it up on the stage.

"She is," he agreed, gritting his teeth. "I might just buy this place. You should introduce me to your star."

The queen made her way back up on the stage, and proceeded to shuck the other shoe. She placed one stockinged foot on the throne, then the other, and pulled herself up to dance on top of it. She presented her back to them, then reached behind her to unhook the fastening one by one.

"Where are my ladies?" Chuck jerked up at the sound of her voice, for the first time she spoke during the performance.

"None!" called a few people from the audience.

"Regular customers," offered the woman behind him, as if Chuck still did not get the idea that she had been repeating over and over. This was a popular club, a good investment, with class, and a rising star to boot. "Now this is the surprise for you. I got you the best seat in the house. I'll leave you to enjoy it."

Chuck watched in fascination as the queen on stage, with the spotlights on her, made a show of scanning the crowd. With the lights trained on her, he was positive that the entire club was nothing but pitch black space to her. "I should look for someone else to help me. This gown is so tight."

The saucy entrance from the curtain opening played again, and she blew a kiss towards the sound booth. She made her way down the stage once again and Chuck sank back into the shadowed area of his seat. She presented her exposed back to him. "Please sir, can you help me?"

He stood up, then reached to brush her fingers down her back. She stiffened at the sensation, and his heart skipped a beat to know that at least she had that semblance of modesty to react to a stranger's touch. Slowly, he unfastened the back. He leaned close and whispered into her ear, "What the hell kind of game are you playing, Waldorf?"

She sucked in her breath, then whirled around, grasping her gown up over her chest. Blair turned around and faced him, and even with the mask still on, he could see her eyes wide and blazing. "Chuck!" she gasped. "Get out of here."

The queen, with a lot of her regal composure taken out of her, climbed back up the steps. She presented the audience with a tantalizing smile, and pronounced, "I'm exhausted. Maybe I should go to bed. Anyone care to join me?" And Chuck gripped his glass so tightly he thought it might shatter in his hands. Blair Waldorf let go of the dress, and it pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a pair of nude strapless bras and panties. He did not question the historical inaccuracy of having La Perlas under the virgin queen trappings, but was slack with relief that spectators didn't see the goods.

He narrowed his eyes as he saw her shadow hurry to the back of the stage. Chuck stood up and followed backstage, only to be stopped by a large bouncer, who looked eerily like a washed up WWE champion. "Blair!" he called out.

The redhead figure pulled off the wig and shook her long brown hair free, then turned to look back at Chuck sadly. She stopped in front of a dressing room door, then knocked. The door opened, and Chuck squinted at the face of the man it revealed. The man pulled Blair inside.

"Humphrey," Chuck recognized.

tbc

* * *

**Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

* * *

AN: Thank you for all the reviews.

Part 2

_Lying back on the pristine white sheets of the hospital, she looked like a frail waif, and a primitive possessiveness surged through him. When he entered the hospital room, his first thought was that maybe she was asleep. He wished she were asleep. He still did not know how to address her, address this._

_This was completely beyond the level of maturity he thought he had grown into. There was nothing he could read up on to talk this through with her. She needed a professional. God, he needed a professional, he realized when his heart clenched._

_But she had not been asleep. She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling._

" _Waldorf," he said huskily, needing to get through to her, to know that the blank stare was not blank, needed to know she registered his presence there at the very least._

" _I deserved it," she whispered, in a tone that told him that she had only just had the realization before he came in. "I deserved it for what I did to Serena."_

_And that he could not accept. "You don't get to decide that. We didn't deserve this, but we'll get through it." Involuntarily, his eyes fell to where her hand climbed up to rest on her empty belly. "I swear, Blair. We can recover." And he thought back to the beautifully furnished new room that she had only just had carpeted. It was yellow, because it was a happy, hopeful color, and neither of them yet wanted to settle on a blue or a pink._

" _If I'd listened, if I had given her the time of day, she would probably be shopping for a room like that too, not…" Her breath hitched. "Gone."_

_He sat on her bed, and it dipped a little under his weight. Still, she did not turn to look at him. It was almost as if she could not bear the sight of him. "Whatever she did, whatever decisions she made, you have to know that she made them for herself."_

_She closed her eyes, and he saw the tears slip from their corners. "You don't understand," she breathed._

" _Make me."_

" _I told her to go," she admitted. "Last month, she called me. She said she didn't want to go to Paris anymore. She wanted to stay here. But I was so busy with all the preparations—"_

_They were getting married in a month. Were. He knew there was no way they could do it now, with a dead of a stepsister and now, even heavier in his heart, this. They would be mourning this one for a long time. His hand closed over hers, just above the blanket. It was the contact, maybe. Or maybe it was that she was too introspective then, that his touch came as a surprise. Blair turned her palm over so that their fingers would intertwine._

" _I remember it now. She sounded so urgent, and I was too involved with myself."_

" _What happened to Serena—" he began. "It wasn't your fault." The words sounded hollow even to him. "Serena had a life that went beyond yours, Blair. No matter how close you were, she had a life you didn't know about."_

" _And what if she wanted to confide in me? Finally. She could have called for help, Chuck."_

" _Stop doing this to yourself." The words came, and he meant them as a plea, but they sounded like a reprimand. Instantly, he recoiled with regret. Blame was the last thing she needed now._

" _I'm sorry," was the reply, too quickly, thoughtlessly given, as if automatic._

" _It's not your fault." She turned on her side, with her back to him, and he knew she had closed him off. His hand fell from her stomach to her hip now. Gently, he squeezed. "You can't ever blame yourself for living your life. She lived hers."_

" _When I told her about us, about it, she came home and brought me a silver rattle she got in Germany."_

_The silver rattle, engraved charmingly with 'S loves B's baby.' Tacky, but Blair had adored the tiny piece of precious metal. It sat atop the crib they needed to store away now. His father had warned him not to set up the nursery so early, but he had been on the top of the world that it was the farthest thing on his mind that anything could happen—least of all this. He had to make sure he kept that silver rattle now. When he brought her home, she was never to see that rattle. The nursery had to go. He needed to hire a man to paint over the walls. He needed to hire an entire crew to get it done on time. He would hire the same group who painted butterflies all over the walls._

" _And when she called to tell me she wanted to stay in New York, I told her she would be insane to pass off on such a career-making job. And then I told her I had to hang up, because the caterers arrived with the samples." Her shoulders shuddered, and he climbed onto the bed behind her, wrapping her tightly in his arms, because this was how it started. And then she would never stop crying until she would be so exhausted the only thing possible was to drift off. "I deserve this."_

_And no matter how utterly selfish it was, it hurt him to hear her say it, as if she were the only one who got hurt. "No one deserves this," he repeated, and it became routine. He repeated the words, when what we wanted to say was that he did not deserve it. He lost a child too._

_His stepsister was dead, and now, Blair was dying too. He could tell from the way she moved, she talked, from the way she breathed. She was dying even more slowly and painfully than Serena probably did, hopped up on drugs in a Parisian hotel room._

_He had known, since the night they found out, that something was bound to happen. He had seen the shadows in the horizon as clearly as he saw the blank look in her eyes when she placed a long-stemmed white rose on the coffin. Every day he forced himself to live life the same way, so that Blair would get back onto her old routines, he waited._

_When he arrived in the suite they shared, he pasted a large smile on his face. It wore on him, trying to be happy, trying to show her he was happy and unaffected. It gave him no chance to grieve himself, but every day he did it because he knew he would break her if he showed her how he really felt._

_The suite was dark and quiet. Often he would come home to find her reading by the window, some fashion magazines that sold her thousands of dollars worth of accessories through a series of pictures. Or sometimes she would be curled on the couch, watching movies that degraded your brain. No one called her out. He did not dare offer advice. Once he suggested she take a walk in the park, and she had not spoken to him for a day._

" _Blair!" he called out._

_He saw the bridal magazines on the coffeetable, and wondered if she was also imagining what it would have been like if it happened—the wedding they had scheduled for that very day. Chuck switched on the lights. He had been watching Blair since the day Serena died, and it was that which made him run. He closed the distance from the front door to the bedroom, and did not sigh in relief when he found the bed empty. Instead, his gaze slammed to the bathroom door. He quickly strode towards it and placed his hand on the knob._

" _Blair!" he yelled, and heard only water running. "Open the door, Blair!" With trembling fingers, he reached for the key that he kept in his jacket pocket now. He inserted the key and turned the knob._

_And the sight was going to be burned in his memory forever. There she was in her nightgown, sitting on the floor, right by the toilet. He adored that nightgown, and he noted the edges soaked in dark blood, the same blood the pooled around her on the floor. The same blood that stained her thighs. Her face was tear-streaked, and her cheek was blood-stained, and he knew she had tried. He knelt in front of her, and saw that her lips had turned a tinge of blue, her eyes glassier than usual._

" _Everything will be alright, Blair," he said calmly, completely in contrast to the rapid thundering in chest. He lifted her in his arms and murmured, "You'll be fine."_

_She laid her head on his shoulder. "I think I'm dying," she whispered into the crook of his neck._

" _I'm taking you to the hospital."_

_Her eyes fluttered, and the flush of her skin was pale and gray. He recognized the sign as loss of blood. "Do you think Serena's trying to call me?"_

_He made his way to the door, then straight to the elevator without grabbing anything. His wallet was still in his pocket, and any identification card he had was bound to be enough to get her the best care possible. "She couldn't have been," was his answer as they waited for the elevator doors to open to the lobby. He kissed her cheek where the blood and the tears have dried._

" _I think she is," she shared faintly. "I heard her before you came."_

" _Blair," he said hurriedly. "Do me a favor. When she calls again, tell her you can't go."_

" _What will I say?"_

_The doors opened, and Chuck stepped out with her in his arms. "The limo," he snapped at the bellboy, who immediately rushed to the concierge to call on the Bass driver. Trained by many mishaps, and outbursts from when the Bass heir was still a child, the limo arrived in barely a minute. He settled inside with Blair, and did not need to give directions to the hospital. "Blair, tell her you and I have plans, okay?" he whispered into her hair. "If Serena calls again, if she asks you to go with her, you tell her you and I have plenty of plans."_

Dan held out her robe to her. Blair took the proffered clothing and slipped into it. Quickly, she moved to the closet and pulled out her bag, then tossed it to Dan. "Pack up," she commanded.

"What?"

"Pack up," Blair repeated. "We are getting out of here."

Dan dropped the bag on the floor. Blair narrowed her eyes and snatched the bag, then pushed it back into his hands. "Pack up, Dan!"

"I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on. We've been working on this for six months," cried out the frustrated journalist. "We're this close to cracking the case. This is worthy of national broadcast."

She shook her head. "I don't care about your story, Dan. That not why I'm here."

"You're right. You're here because of Serena. And that hasn't changed," he said slowly. Dan stepped over to Blair and rubbed her upper arms. "I know you have the hard part of this job. It can't be easy doing that. But this is the only way in, Blair."

She moved away from him, then hastily picked out clothes. Six months they had been working so closely together, and they had reached the point when she could change in front of him. "It's not that. I've gotten used to it."

"Right," he added. "You don't feel a thing." He could call her bullshit right then, but he did not. He needed her to finish this, because there was no way he would be able to do it on his own.

She glared at him, the way she always did when she could hear the judgment in his voice. "Exactly."

"Then why would you suddenly change your mind?"

There was a knock on the door. Blair whirled around and her jaw dropped. She had sworn the boxer kept Chuck at bay. "Oh God!" Blair pushed at Dan's shoulders. "Go!"

Dan stumbled towards the bathroom door, and Blair pulled the door shut. She tied the belt of her robe, then called out, "Come in."

She held her breath and saw the hostess of the club standing outside. "Jane!" she gasped. "It's you. I'm so happy to see you. For a minute there, I thought—"

"Blair, there's someone I'd like you to meet." She froze. Blair held her breath. Then a figure stepped out of the shadows. And then, for the first time in fifteen months, her nightmare and fantasies confronted her head on. While her heartbeat thundered in her ears, Jane continued speaking, "Charles Bass. He's buying the club, and he wants to meet the star!" _  
_

She took deep breaths to steady herself. She felt as if all the blood had suddenly left her, and she grabbed at a chair. Blair hoped that Jane did not noticed anything amiss, because she did not need questions right now.

"Jane, is it?" came his smooth, quiet voice. Blair almost closed her eyes at the pleasure of hearing that voice again. "Will you leave me alone with Blair?"

"Oh. Mr Bass," the hostess stammered. "I don't know what Allan said, but this isn't that kind of club. Our stars don't—"

"Jane, I need to be alone with Blair," Chuck repeated more firmly. Jane threw a helpless look at Blair, as if asking for permission. "Tell her it's fine, Blair."

Blair swallowed, then gave an imperceptible nod, sending Jane scurrying out of the room. "What do you want?"

"Where's Humphrey?"

She drew a sharp breath. "Dan Humphrey? Why would he be here?"

"You know you can't lie to me." He glanced at the bathroom door, then smirked. "Fine. You want to do this with him listening in?" He stepped close to her, so close she could feel his hard, angry breathing. "What the hell are you doing stripping in this kind of place?"

Blair closed her eyes, because even the smell of him was too heady to take. "I don't see why it should matter to you what I do with my life."

"You never did," he said.

"Just leave, Chuck. This isn't a good investment."

He shook his head. "If I doubted this place for even one moment, you made up my mind for me the moment you stood there and took off your clothes." She moved away, and he watched silently as she shrugged on a tank top and a pair of jeans. For the life of him, he had never seen her wear a pair of jeans before that very day. "What happened to you?"

"Life," was the simple answer.

"Is it about the money, Blair?" he whispered. God, he did not even think about money. He had always just assumed that she had plenty to go on. It wasn't as if it would matter to him. It just—it was never part of the equation.

She recoiled, as if slapped. "Where do you go off asking questions?" she demanded.

"Tell me how—why—what the hell possessed you to do this? I've been looking for you for more than a year, Blair." He shook his head in disbelief. "This would have been the last place I'd have come to look."

She smiled grimly at him. "You lost the right me anything about my life the day you left me, Chuck."

He set his jaw, and felt her words like a punch into his gut. "I made you do this?" he said softly.

She gave a humorless laugh. "You don't affect me that much. Not anymore."

"There was a time I did."

"Right," she said, as if recalling as distant memory. "I begged you to stay, and you threw me away."

_She was dead; and she was killing him every day._

_It was the day Chuck never thought would come. Days turned to months, and she killed everything she touched. The day their baby died, he had known that life together would be a test to him. And he had never been good at tests. It was no surprise that he would fail this one too. This would have been the most important test of all. Could he save her? Could he make her want to save herself? Could he keep two people afloat when one was so determined to sink?_

_It was the most emotion she had shown him since the day Serena died._

_Unfortunately for them, it hadn't been enough._

" _Don't leave me," was her response._

_He told her about his decision in the living room of their suite. Heaven knows he would not be able to do it in the bedroom, because that was where they were when they found out Serena died, and that bed held the happiest moments of their time together. The bedroom was in full view of the bathroom, and he shuddered still to remember the night he found her there._

_The tiles have been cleaned, and even then he had to have the hotel retile the entire room. And still he thought he saw bloodstains on the floor._

" _I can't watch you barely live, Blair. I didn't fall in love with this."_

_Her liquid eyes pulled him in, as if they were whirlpools, and he felt himself respond. But he needed to be strong, because they would not survive if he allowed himself to drown in her._

" _I'm doing this for you."_

" _Then you're a coward," she sobbed._

" _I'm not going to change my mind, Blair," he said slowly, the hardest sentence he ever uttered._

_Right in front of him, he saw her crumble. Her stance relaxed, and she stepped forward and clutched at his shirt. "No. No, Chuck, you can't leave me now."_

_He pulled her hands away from his shirt. "Tell me you'll let this go, and we will move on with our lives." She met his eyes, and he could tell, by the way she searched his expression, that she was looking for a way out. "Promise me, Blair. Promise me we'll move on with our lives."_

_Instead of the words he needed, the words he had to wait for, he heard nothing but the mewling sounds she made as she sank to her knees in front of him. "Chuck, if you leave me now, then I'm done."_

_He bent and placed a kiss on her head. "If I don't, then I'm done. I love you, Blair."_

"You don't get to act like this," she told him. "Like you're a long suffering lover that I abandoned. Never forget, Chuck, because I know I never will."

"I did it for us."

She continued, as if she never heard him. "You left me, not the other way around." Blair took a breath to strengthen her resolve. "Now go."

For a moment, it seemed he would not leave, and she was afraid that a few seconds more, she was going to break. He finally walked out of her door, and she prayed he would get out and never come back. But she knew Chuck Bass the same way she knew herself, and Blair knew to expect him the next night.

The bathroom door opened and closed, and Dan back into the room. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, and she tried to ignore him.

"Did I destroy your life, Blair?" was his question.

It was a question she was not ready to answer, not even to hear. "Of course not," she answered, turning to face him. "You gave me a purpose, Dan."

The answer satisfied him, and he sighed. Dan walked up to her and enfolded her in his arms.

tbc

* * *

**Chapter 3: Chapter 3**

* * *

Part 3

_It was the day to say goodbye._

_A hundred thousand fights multiplied by a million kisses past, a hope for a family, then two deaths so close they killed her too, Blair Waldorf sat in their living room and waited for him to arrive. He was the boy who took away her fairy tale, and there had never been a hint at that time when they were so young that he would give her the happiest moments of her life._

_Nor the very moment that she was afraid would break her forever._

_Chuck Bass stepped out of the bedroom with two suitcases in hand. He stood watching her, but did not speak. For her part, she did not look. He hurt her enough with this decision. Watching him go would be the hardest. She kept her eyes trained to the curtains and heard him sigh. With trembling hands, she took the glass from the center table and tipped the contents into her mouth._

_He walked. She heard his footsteps as he moved about the room towards the exit. She knew the moment he reached the floor behind her, because she felt her entire body grow hot and cold, the way his presence often did. Blair's eyes closed, her tremulous lashes moist with tears. She would not cry. When he decided he would not fight anymore, he lost the privilege to deserve her tears._

_Just leave, she thought. Just leave like you want and stop this torment._

_Chuck Bass had always been stubborn. He stopped right behind her and placed the bags at his feet. Blair knew, even if she could not see. She knew everything he did. She felt a whisper of his breath at her ear when he leaned to place a kiss on her cheek._

_And it burned. The kiss was the brand of the traitor he was for giving up on her._

" _I love you," he swore under his breath, and she almost laughed at the pitiful declaration. So closely he guarded those words when there had been a chance at happiness, but so easily he could say them at the end._

_She did not return the words. He deserved nothing but to hurt the way he was hurting her now._

" _Just leave."_

_She heard the footsteps, and she ached to turn to see at least his back as he went out the door. Blair looked down at her glass, refusing to give in. The door closed with a muffled thud. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stifled her choking sob._

When she left New York, Blair told herself she would never go back again. She had been successful for the most part. California had opened its welcoming arms and Blair had tentatively stepped into the embrace of the darker recesses of Hollywood and visited New York only in the dreams that bothered her against her will.

Leaving New York behind meant to Blair that she had left Serena too. But if there was one thing she discovered, especially after meeting Dan Humphrey again, no one ever left Serena van der Woodsen behind. And so every so often Blair found herself walking across a grassy lawn in a cemetery and sitting under a tree. Today was one of those days. She folded her legs under her and fixed her hat. The marble angel that stood at the center of the grounds looked towards her with cold, unseeing eyes, and Blair gave it a smile.

She wondered what Serena thought of Blair replacing her best friend with a statue of a chubby cherubim.

Or at least that was who Blair told herself to think about at the sight of that little angel. She and Dan would take care of ensuring that Serena's murder would be exposed. Thinking of someone else, someone nameless, someone who did not have a chance, would merely serve to rake up pain that she knew she had to keep buried.

That pain, that death, she could not avenge.

Not unless she was willing to punish herself even more.

She had escaped that punishment the day Chuck brought her to the family plot in New York and showed her the newly installed elegant black granite marker. The marker lay beside his own mother's grave, in a plot so important with its proximity to the beloved, short-lived Bass matriarch. He had thought it would help her, and she had screamed at him to explain how immortalizing the date of her miscarriage on expensive stone would help.

When the hotel doctor decided to inject her with sedatives, he had curled up beside her and whispered apologies, promised that the marker would go.

No. The little cherubim that she looked at was in memory of Serena, and she swore to it every time she saw it. She would find out who killed her best friend. She would not return to planning her future until she could settle that past.

Now, with the prospect of Chuck Bass purchasing the club, she and Dan were pressed for time. They had to make their move on Allan. Tonight. Tuesdays were Allan's club visit.

Perhaps it was the secrecy of the past six months that made her so aware. Blair felt the eyes on her, and the hair prickled at her nape. She had never been scared of staying alone in the cemetery, especially at broad daylight. She felt the human presence interfering with the peaceful solitude she found in this sanctuary. She turned her head and saw the dark figure under the trees on the other side of the lot.

"Chuck," she recognized. He wore a dark long trench coat that would have worked in Manhattan, but seemed so very out of place in the sunny California day. Blair pulled herself up to her feet and strode towards him. He must have realized that she had spied him, because she saw his stance straighten. "What are doing here?" she demanded.

"Maybe I know someone buried here," he said easily.

"You don't have any family or friends here!" she snapped.

His answer came smoothly, easily. "Neither do you." Her eyes narrowed. "If you wanted to grieve for them, you could have come home." The statement was an assault to her senses. She turned on her heel and walked away. "Blair!" he called after her.

And then she felt him gaining on her, and it was not fair that he could run after her now when he wanted, and run away from her then when he chose. She picked up her speed and found herself running down the cement pavement to where she had parked her car. Blair fumbled in her pocket for her keys. She pressed the button on the chain and unlocked the car.

He caught up to her before she could open the door. Chuck turned her around to face him. With her back pressed against the car window, and both of his arms blocking her at the sides, there was nowhere to move. His eyes burned into hers. She turned her face away.

"Talk to me." He was breathing hard from the run, and it flitted in her brain a humorous memory of Chuck's sports exposure as a child. "You have something to tell."

"Whatever I have to tell, it wouldn't be to you," she said stubbornly.

Chuck sighed, then nodded. He removed his arms from either side of her, then leaned back beside her against the car frame. "Because I left."

She shrugged, then picked up her fallen keys. She opened the car door and asked him to move. Blair entered the car and placed the key into the ignition. The motor hummed to life. He motioned for her to roll down the windows. She did, and told him, "Stop following me, or else I'm going to take out a restraining order on your ass."

He did not respond to that. Instead, he said, "I had to leave, Blair. I was going to drown. If we were both drowning, no one will save us."

She swallowed hard at the words. Blair blinked away the tears that threatened. She had cried, and begged, and pleaded once. He still decided to leave. Chuck Bass did not see her cry the day he left. He would not see her cry now. "So you left me to drown by myself," she said softly. Blair pushed at the gas and left him at the curb.

" _Why don't you go out tonight, sweetheart?"_

_Blair looked up from the magazine and gave Lilly a small smile. "I don't think so." She put down her reading material on the table, and Lilly saw the colorful post-its marking pages._

_Lilly turned inquiring eyes at the girl who had been her daughter's best friend, the girl who would have been her own daughter-in-law. "Are you looking into renovating the place?" She kept her excitement at bay, because a new project was what Blair needed. It was the first time she would express an interest on anything apart from remaining in catatonia._

_Blair shook her head. "I'm looking into renting my own space."_

" _This is a perfectly good suite, Blair. If you don't feel like its your place, you can personalize it. Let me give you my decorator's number." Lilly reached for the pen and the notebook lying on the table beside the magazine. She noted the places listed. "Blair, these are all outside the state."_

" _Thank you," Blair said graciously of the interior designer's information. "And yes. This is his place," she pointed out, and Lilly winced at the idea that Blair would not even refer to her stepson by name. "I can't take over his place. He might want to come back. He won't appreciate having his space redone by the girl he dumped. I shouldn't be camping out here." She gave Lilly a small smile. "I can take a hint, Mrs Bass. The fact that he walked out on me was a very big hint."_

" _But out of New York? This is the only place you know, Blair."_

" _I don't need a constant remind of how my life has been until now. It's not like it's been a grand collection of snippets for a pleasurable visit to memory lane."_

_In the elevator, Lilly placed her headset into her ear._

" _How is she?" came the low voice on the other line._

" _Talk to your shrink, Charles. This treatment plan that he has might just be the one that will tear you two completely apart."_

_His breath was harsh on the line. "It might not be the most ideal plan. Hell, I'm driving myself crazy at the thought of her all alone. But I'm losing her. I don't know what else to do to bring her back, Lilly."_

" _Charles—"_

" _I want her back," he finished with a plea._

_tbc_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Chapter 4**

* * *

Part 4

There was a time, once upon a million years ago, when the only man who could ever touch her was Chuck Bass. And now here she was, scantily clad in a sheer shift she had only once ever worn in public by itself, swinging liquid hips at men who dared to run their fingers down those smooth arms. Through half-lidded eyes and barely veiled anger, ducked in the shadows, he watched. Chuck Bass nursed his glass of scotch with a tight grip he was only waiting for the noise of its shattering.

She bit her lip, with a coy grin on her face that caused her audience to hoot. Blair then pointed those stilettos back towards the stage and made her way back up the stage.

The lights dimmed. Chuck focused on her. She waved her fingers at the man, and Chuck slammed his drink down on the table. He grabbed the arm of a passing waitress, then snapped, "Bathroom."

He strode towards the direction he had been given. It was at the far back of the club. He was several feet away when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see Jane smiling at him. "Mr Bass, I'm glad to see you here. This is Allan's day to visit, and I think you two can close on that deal today."

"Good," Chuck said decisively. If he had his way, he would buy out the entire place and close it. Fuck whoever tells him what a major business loss it would be given the obviously packed AB market-pandering shithole it was. He would close it down just to make sure Blair would not be tempted to strip there again. "I'll catch him later. I'm on the way to the bathroom."

"Well the future owner doesn't have to use the customer facilities." Jane unhooked a key ring from her belt, then handed it to Chuck. "Green key." She assisted him towards the steps. "Second door to the right."

He grinned and took the key from the hostess. "Thank you."

Chuck ran up the steps and emerged on the second floor, a closed off balcony section that would have had a fantastic view of the performances. His business head questioned the wisdom of keeping the second floor cordoned off on regular days. The section had all its lights off, but he could see a small glow. Chuck narrowed his eyes and saw Dan Humphrey looking at an LCD screen. A camera.

"Well shit," Chuck murmured. He had expected to see Dan Humphrey any moment, because he knew his eyes did not lie to him when he saw Dan pull Blair into the dressing room that first time. He walked towards the other man and was intrigued when the budding journalist did not even look his way. And then he noted the headphones. Chuck smirked. Surveillance equipment. Fitted with expensive toys and placed in an environment normal Humphrey would not be able to afford and Dan was still as stupid as the day he demanded that Chuck leave the Palace. He walked over to Dan and grabbed his shoulder.

Dan stumbled and dropped his camera on the floor. He bent to retrieve it but Chuck reached it first. Dan took off his headphones and held up his hands. "Chuck, be careful with that."

"What are you doing here? More importantly, what are you doing with Blair?"

"Chuck, hand the camera over before all we've worked for gets corrupted or deleted."

Chuck frowned at the LCD and sifted through the pictures. He scanned through the saved videos. Afterwards, he handed the device over to Dan. "Just making sure you didn't get any of Blair's wonderful performances on video."

"I'm not a pervert," Dan claimed. "And I'm not a pimp."

"I beg to differ," Chuck said softly. "I have a feeling you're the one who got her into this mess. You're ruining her life. She could be in New York right now sipping tea with old money, networking, thinking of the next disease to throw a ball for."

Dan huffed. "Did you get a chance to look through those pictures? Really look through them?" Chuck grimaced. He had not been interested in the content apart from making sure Blair was not featured. "Those are all the pictures I have taken these past two weeks alone. Allan is trafficking here, getting people addicted to his new rogue formula."

Chuck took the camera again and hit the menu button. Just as he suspected, back in the older folder, was a series of shots of Serena meeting up with Allan in various hotspots.

"I have the situation under control. All the evidence points to the dickhead who owns this place. Now we only need one more to lock this man up for life."

And Chuck just knew, even before Dan confirmed it, what that last evidence would be.

Dan held up a finger. "Before you even protest, let me tell you this. I found Blair when she felt like everyone she cared about abandoned her," he said pointedly at Chuck. "And she was still shaken by what happened to Serena, and by her miscarriage. She was going through it all alone and she felt like a damned victim it made me sick to my stomach."

"You mean you convinced a vulnerable young woman to be the bait in an operation you don't even have the right to do," Chuck said menacingly.

Dan shook his head. "She practically begged me to take her. Blair was either the victim or the perpetrator in her head. There was no middle ground. Either she killed her best friend or she is losing everyone she loved. She needed to stand up and do something."

Chuck shook his head. "All I know is how irresponsible it is for you to play young detective when you have no experience, and you're putting my wife at risk."

"She's not your wife," Dan interjected.

Chuck fisted his hands into balls at his sides, then ignored the last comment. "When you're monitoring criminal activity and you can't even hear someone walking behind you, you lose the right to recruit another player in your game."

He turned back to the stage and zoomed his lens, checking for Allan to capture an image. "She's not a recruit. She's as big a player in this as I am," Dan told him. "That was her decision. Now if you'll excuse me. You're interfering with surveillance. Today is the day that Blair will test her draw. Allan knows that she's the star now. She can get the people he wants."

"What are you making her do?"

Dan shrugged Chuck's hands off. "I'm not asking her to do anything she isn't comfortable with. Believe it or not, we've grown to become friends." Then, taking pity on the other man, he clarified, "She needs to get into Allan's office to procure evidence—a packet, a black book, even a picture. At the very least, she can get Allan to offer her the drug."

Chuck watched as Dan frowned, turning the camera lens on all corners of the first floor area, scanning the stage, the bar, or the audience section. "Shit," Dan muttered.

"What?"

"They're gone."

" _They're gone," she said, her voice cold, neutral. "And they're never coming back."_

" _When you say 'they,' who do you mean?" came the logical voice of the psychiatrist that Lilly had dragged her to._

_Blair turned cold eyes down at her. She hated the shrink, hated the shrink for the way she was always calm, like Blair's world didn't just collapse. "Haven't you been listening to my story this entire time? Didn't you take notes?" Other patients would have asked the same questions in a shrill manner. Blair sounded like a displeased employer._

" _I wanted to figure out who you're referring to this instance."_

" _You mean, you have notes on my abandonment issues that you will blame on my father. Well my father leaving us for another man did not give me abandonment issues. This isn't that easy."_

" _Then tell me how it is, Blair."_

" _When did I say you can call me Blair?"_

" _Who are 'they'?"_

" _Isn't it obvious?" she snapped, finally. "My baby, Serena, Chuck."_

" _Your baby and Serena are gone. That's why they're not coming back. Why do you think your fiancé is not coming back?"_

_She gave her psychiatrist a cold stare. "I've already drowned. Now I'm floating piece of carcass waiting to wash ashore. Who will want to come back to this?"_

She was glad that she had the chance to change into more comfortable clothes before she met up with Allan at the bottom step leading to his office. With his hand on the small of her back, she needed all the protection she needed in terms of clothes. Logically, her role would have required her to fit into something slinkier. But she had always been against typecasting and opted for a knee-length skirt and a long-sleeved white silk blouse instead. She wore a pair of black pumps, then finished off the look by pulling her hair into a one-sided ponytail over her right shoulder.

When Allan saw her, he broke into a huge grin. "This is why you are a stunning success!" he exclaimed. "Everyone always wants to see the proper, classy girl just drop her clothes on the floor."

Blair gave him a sweet smile. "I am just thrilled to finally meet you. Everyone speaks so highly of you."

They made their way up the stairs, with Allan insisting that she go ahead of him. It was gentlemanly, if not for the fact that Allan stayed more than a couple of steps back, keeping enough distance to see up her skirt.

When they reached the door, Blair turned to Allan to open it. The man punched in his security code while watching Blair. He escorted her inside when the door swung open.

"Wow," Blair sighed when she walked into the office. "So this is what Allan's office looks like." There was a leather couch at one end, a large plasma TV at the focal point, and a large semi-portable entertainment computer on a glass table. "It looks more like a hotel suite than an office."

"I wanted to make it a home away from home," he shared. "I already spend most of my days locked up in clubs all over the country."

Blair looked around and commanded her brain to make mental snapshots. There were at least four paintings in the room. A safe could be behind any one of those. Or it could be in the bathroom. "So where are the pictures of the celebrities? I bet you've met a lot of them in this job."

"I have. But I don't collect pictures of them. It's tacky."

"When you've been around them so much, I guess it is juvenile to have their pictures posted on your walls," Blair agreed.

Allan nodded and walked over to door that she initially thought led to the bathroom. To her surprise, he came out with two cold bottles of light beer. He handed one to her. It was uncapped. She pushed it back into his hand. "I'd rather not," she said.

Allan said, "Good girl." He held out other bottle he held, this one with the cap still on. She took the beer and the glass that he offered with it.

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you're clever. That's one of the first things they taught us in high school. Never accept an open bottle of drink from anyone. Pity most of our girls here still don't follow such a sensible concept."

Blair poured the beer into her glass. Allan smirked, then lifted his bottle up to his lips.

" _Serena!" Blair laughed. "Stop!"_

_The blonde continued pulling her along with her as they ran down the empty streets of Manhattan. "Are you kidding, Blair?" Serena demanded. "Look at this. It's amazing here."_

_A few snowflakes started to fall. One floated around and played in the air until it reached Blair's nose. "Oh." She then looked up and down the street. "It's winter. Why aren't there more people Christmas shopping? There should be a traffic jam."_

_Serena smiled, and her eyes crinkled. She plucked the snowflake from Blair's nose. It melted under her finger. "Look, Blair, the ice melted."_

_Blair frowned at the statement. And then, her eyes widened, and she turned around and looked through the stores. They were all closed._

" _We're the only two people in Manhattan," Serena stated. "You won't find any place open."_

" _Serena, what's going on?" she asked, her heart thundering in her chest._

" _Oh!" Serena exclaimed, as if only just remembering something. "There's someone else here. I bet you want to see her." The blonde took her friend's hand once more. "Come on."_

_And then there was a gush of wind that carried with it so much white snow that it temporarily blinded her. "Serena, slow down."_

_And then she was in front of the suite that she and Chuck had occupied, Blair pulled her hand free of Serena's. "Here we are!" Serena announced, turning the knob._

" _I don't want to see him," Blair said firmly._

" _Silly girl. Hold this."_

_Blair looked down at the cold metal that Serena placed in her hand. She lifted the toy in awe. It was the silver rattle that Serena had given her as a gift, after Blair told her friend her secret._

_The bright sunlight flooded her the moment the door opened, as if the suite was filled with pure sunbeams gathered together in one space. Blair felt Serena's hands push her inside. And then, small arms wrapped around her thigh. "Mama! Mama!"_

_Blair looked down to see a child with a shocking mess of black hair holding on to her tightly. She sent a panicked look at her best friend."Look at her, Blair. Isn't she precious?" Serena said, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. "Don't you just want to stay with her forever?"_

" _Carry, mama!"_

_Blair turned to gaze down at the toddler, and her chest tightened when the little girl looked up at her. She bent down and picked her up, then handed her the silver rattle. And then the girl laid her head on Blair's shoulder. Blair closed her eyes and then took a deep breath, smelling the little girl's hair. She smiled. She used the same baby shampoo that Blair's father used on her when she was young._

" _I missed you, sweetheart," she breathed._

tbc

* * *

**Chapter 5: Chapter 5**

* * *

Part 5

When Chuck bolted, Dan hurriedly packed up his surveillance bag. He called out after the other man, "Chuck, come back here. Don't go off half-cocked." He and Blair had spent half a year planning this takedown, and Chuck Bass was just going to go bursting in on it without the careful outlining and scenario walkthroughs that Blair had carefully typed up.

Chuck stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to Dan, who held out a manila folder to Chuck.

Dan jerked his head towards the folder, urging Chuck to take it. "It will tell you what to do, based on what's happening the moment you walk in. It will give you an identity if Allan doesn't recognize you."

A pause. Chuck eyed the folder, then turned his cold stare at Dan, who now stumbled to his feet with his heavy bag. And then Chuck turned and ran back down the stairs.

The door to Allan's office was slightly open. He breathed harshly, then pushed it open wider. He walked in and found no Allan, no Blair. A muffled sob reached him from the private bathroom. Chuck strode towards the noise and saw Jane, still in her hostess costume, lying back on the tiles with a look of ecstasy on her face.

Her face was wet with tears.

"Jane!" Chuck called firmly.

The woman's eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a serene smile. She pulled herself up and allowed Chuck to help her to her feet. Jane licked her lips. "Thank you," she said, her voice still faint.

"Where are they?" Chuck demanded.

Jane shook her head. "They weren't here anymore when I passed by."

He frowned. "Then what the hell was that?"

Her eyes widened. "Please don't tell Allan," she begged. "He'll fire me."

"What was it?" he repeated, his voice softer now.

She turned her face away, and it was Dan, who had just managed to arrive to the office, who answered. "It's called White Heaven, the latest and greatest designer drug, the rogue formula. Allan's been marketing it to only a very select audience."

Having been part of that select market for designer drugs himself once upon a time, Chuck recognized the kind of money involved. He had tried many, and he enjoyed many of them. Out of curiosity, he turned to Jane. "How was the trip?"

She swallowed. "It's private."

He remembered the ecstasy and the agony resplendent on her face when he arrived. "It must have been good," he commented. "Listen," he told the hostess. "We won't tell Allan that you were helping yourself to his product if you don't tell him you saw us here." Jane nodded eagerly. He turned to Dan. "Where the hell are they?"

Dan's brows furrowed. "They're bound to come back," he told Chuck. "By pattern, he will take her back here. He'll use her to get to his target audience."

Chuck shook his head, unwilling to wait it out. But without any idea where Allan could have taken Blair, he was bound to end up ever farther than where he was supposed to be. He looked around the room, but it was spare apart from the furniture and appliances. Dan put down his bag on the couch, then started looking through magazines for the slight hope that there was a piece of paper or a scribble hidden within. During the search, Jane managed to slip out unnoticed.

When Chuck opened one of the drawers, he saw a small vial of white powder. He held it up between his fingers. "Dan."

The other man looked up, his eyes widened at what Chuck displayed. "White Heaven. Do you know how much money that's worth?" Dan gasped in disbelief. Chuck gave him a look that almost insulted him. "Of course you do," Dan managed. "We did it. We have proof."

"You have proof that he has it in his office. It doesn't tell anyone he's trafficking or producing." Chuck studied the vial, and found it opened. Clearly, this was what Jane had used. Maybe the bastard even slipped it to Blair. His voice urgent, he asked, "What's the trip like?"

"According to most accounts, it's like going to heaven."

"So is E," Chuck snapped. "There has to be something about this drug that makes it so different from every other pill that's out there. Jesus, you'd think you'd be more effective at this given that you're researching it because it's what killed your girlfriend!" In front of his eyes, Chuck saw Dan deflate from the initial excitement of finding the drug. He sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

And it was the apology that surprised Dan. "It's not heaven on E, floating around and laughing and being high. It doesn't pump up your metabolism like that. White Heaven gives you a glimpse of heaven, plays with your brain and latches on to your grief patterns, shows you people you love who've died. It's like any normal sleep, but your dreams are so vivid you feel like you're actually there. Your heart slows, your entire body enters a languid state and you most often lose body heat. Because of that, almost always the hallucinations occur with a winter backdrop. White Heaven."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Let me get this straight. This powder gives very real hallucinations of normal life with people that your brain knows are dead?" Dan nodded. "Did you two know about this before you started looking into Allan?"

"We had some idea. I showed Blair some tape interviews I did of some people who've taken it." Dan tossed down the magazines after finding no clue from them. "She felt very strongly about it. She told me that at least she wanted to believe that Serena was with her grandmother on that last moment."

"And she volunteered to be bait," Chuck continued.

"Yes," Dan answered. "You don't think—"

"Yes, Dan, I do think." Chuck slipped the vial into his pocket, then stalked towards the door. Dan had read it right in as much as Blair, spiraling uncontrollably, had needed to take charge of her life. Chuck had begged and pleaded with her to do the same on those last gasping breaths of their relationship.

Blair Waldorf had found the perfect way to take all control she had lost.

Chuck Bass would not let her dictate when it would all end, and how.

And Dan Humphrey had just been played.

_Blair tucked the blanket around the girl, and reached forward to touch the black curls. The girl gave her a bright smile. "Story, mama!"_

_Blair nodded, then settled in the bed beside the girl. "Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen who wanted to have a baby. And when the princess was born, she was taken away and hidden in the forest, and the king and the queen was very sad. One day, a knight came and promised the queen that he would help her find the princess."_

" _Did she find the princess, Blair?"_

_Blair looked at Serena, who now stood by the door. "She did," Blair answered. She turned to the girl, who had now started to drift off to sleep. "And she promises to stay with her forever."_

She opened her eyes and found herself lying on an unfamiliar bed. Allan's, she supposed. Blair opened the door and walked to the living room, where the club owner laid smoking on his couch.

"Why didn't you sleep on your bed?" Blair asked.

Allan raised himself up on his elbows. "I don't mix business with pleasure," he responded. "So what did you think of the product?"

"What do you think?" she parried.

Allan chuckled. "I think you liked it a little too much. I've never seen anyone want to see dead people as much as you do. Usually people get too shaken after one trip and doesn't try another for a couple of days at least."

Blair smiled at him grimly. "I don't see why there's a need to wait. It's a visit."

"Be careful. The third time you tried it, you almost took ten times the amount you were supposed to. Just a pinch, Blair. You remind the customers of that when you start offering."

"It was an accident," she replied smoothly. Blair extended her hand. "I think I've sampled enough to give credibility to my testimonials. Give me the product so we can get this rolling." Her gaze flickered to the half dozen vials on the coffee table. "That it?" she asked as she reached for them.

Allan caught her wrist. "That's worth thirty thousand, more money than you've seen in your life." Blair stifled her scoff. He handed her one vial. "This is five grand worth in this vial alone. Measure properly. A pinch is enough hit for anyone."

She smiled, then slipped the vial into her pocket. "I'll see you at the club." Blair walked towards the door.

He nodded. "And Blair," he called to her. She turned her head to show her attention. "Who do you see—that you kept coming back there?"

She wondered what he deserved to know. But Serena was dead and gone, and she needed his trust. Then again, he gave her a piece of heaven. And so she answered, "My daughter."

At that, he inclined his head as a gesture of thanks, then waved her out. Blair's hand slid into her pocket as she touched the cold glass container.

_Dan scribbled his notes quickly even as the girl spoke. Behind the camera, Blair watched the play of emotions on the interviewee's face._

" _He overdosed?"_

_Dan glanced up at the change. Blair Waldorf often sat quietly throughout his interviews and never spoke about what they learned until the victim left. Sarah, the girl he had urged to speak in front of the camera, nodded._

" _How much did he take?" It was Blair again. Dan observed in fascination as Blair tested the waters and then dove deep. "Did he take a pinch right after he came off the first?"_

" _No. He took about five times as much, thinking heaven would last that much longer." Sarah sniffled. "We didn't know it would be permanent."_

_Dan reached out for the girl's hand. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, knowing they were ripping the girl's heart into shreds by forcing her to remember._

" _What first aid did you try?"_

" _Blair, that's enough—"_

" _No," came the soft voice from behind the camera. "I'd like to know what didn't work. How long was it before you found him?"_

Dan turned off the video from his computer.

Chuck leaned back in his chair and looked at him. "You are so far off into your little world that you never thought anything was odd about that? Blair Waldorf in her right mind wouldn't have cared about that girl's boyfriend, or how he died, or what she did to save him."

"I thought she was becoming more involved in something other than Marc Jacobs or Alexander McQueen," Dan argued.

"Which rock did you crawl out of?" Chuck retorted. "Blair doesn't wear Alexander McQueen. That's more Serena's style."

"Fine," Dan snapped. "How would I have known that your fiancé had a death wish?"

"Because she just lost everything!"

"Well you certainly had no idea and you were living with her."

"Why do you think I left?"

Dan was stunned into silence. "You left because you thought she was bent on destroying herself?" he repeated, asking for clarification. "Good job, Bass."

When Dan turned to leave, Chuck caught his shoulder. Dan looked down at him in surprise. Chuck held up a finger in warning. "Don't. Don't think you understand me or Blair just because you've spent time with her."

"She and I practically lived together for six months, Chuck. I hear her at night. I understand."

"You don't know the half of it."

On the other side of town, Blair removed her jacket as she entered the motel room. She tossed the clothing item onto the chair, then drew out the vial, reverently placing it on the bedside table. Just one visit. One visit would not hurt.

It was a simple thing, she discovered, as she uncapped the vial and tipped a very small amount into a glass of water. A pinch. She was not going to use more than a pinch until it was over, and Allan was behind bars for what he had done to Serena. There was a whole future in that vial, and it was a future she would turn to when she had put the past behind.

Blair tipped the drink into her mouth, then lazily stripped her clothes off, letting them fall to the floor. And then, she crawled right into bed.

_The leather was cool against her thighs. Blair moved forward so that her skin would not touch the seat too much. When the limo stopped in front of the black gates of the school, she reached out to open the door. Her daughter climbed in with a large smile on her face._

" _Hello darling!" Blair greeted. Her fingers reached up to hold the cold hard pearls around her throat._

" _We learned a new song today, mama!" the girl announced._

" _You did?" Blair gasped. "And will you sing it to me?" She took off her daughter's winter cap and ear mufflers._

_The girl nodded, then removed her backpack and gloves. And then, standing inside the limo, the little girl held up stubby fingers and made a climbing motion so familiar that Blair sat back and enjoyed it. "The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout," the girl sang cheerfully. "Down came the wain and washed the spider out. Up came the sun and dwied up all the wain and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout—"_

" _Again!"_

_Chuck caught the girl up in his arms and lifted her straight onto his lap. Blair raised her shocked gaze up at the man sitting beside her in the vehicle. He smiled at her the way she had not seen him do for so long. Her daughter pulled at the red scarf wrapped around his throat._

" _What are you doing here?"_

_He leaned towards her and placed a kiss on her slack mouth. "My call finished early. I thought I'd play hooky from Bass Industries for once and take my family out for lunch. What do you say?"_

Blair lurched up from the bed, knocking the glass from the side table. She gasped for breath. She stumbled out of the bed and walked barefoot towards the mirror in the bathroom, and stared at her reflection, the rings under her eyes, the dryness around her mouth. Her teeth rattled at the coldness that enveloped her.

She stepped into the shower and twisted the knob to full heat. Blair gritted her teeth at the onslaught of painful water.

She read all of the notes than Dan did on the drug that killed Serena. She herself was there through all the interviews. In fact, Blair had done her own independent research into how the substance played with the brain. You only see people you lost in any trip caused by that powder.

What the hell was Chuck Bass doing in her hallucination?

tbc

* * *

**Chapter 6: Chapter 6**

* * *

AN: I took a short trip to depression lane to deliver a part of AAS. This is the second to the last part. I hope you will… can I say "enjoy"? Hmmm…

Part 6

And so it ends.

The white powder gleamed under the fluorescent light, enough to take her to a world that she had longed to live in since the day that Chuck Bass placed a kiss on her cheek and whispered goodbye. Blair Waldorf relished each movement, the way the clothes slid against her skin as she wore each item as if on her way out to battle. For the last months she left for work after throwing on jeans and a tank top, then chucking on a pair off low-heeled boots.

Tonight was the night, and so tonight, Blair Waldorf selected a black lacy dress in the pattern of those she used to wear when life was still heaven. She tore open a small plastic package she had brought with her after stopping by the mall. Blair held in her hands a red velvety headband. She looked at herself in the mirror. With careful precision, she placed the headband on like a tiara.

She pulled open her dresser drawer and selected a red lipstick, then swiped it on. She pressed her lips together and then smiled at her reflection on the mirror.

Across the city, Chuck Bass lay on his bed deprived of any chance of sleep.

Once upon a time, his bed was warm, and all he needed to do was turn to his side and see her sleeping there, and he could sleep. All had been right in his world, and sleep came so easily then.

Tonight he knew it would all happen. He knew Blair Waldorf enough to know that she would decide when it all began and when it all ended. She had ever only lost control once, faced with the truth that he was leaving her, knowing that she could not do the one thing he had asked her. He had decided to sleep in the guestroom. After telling her that he was leaving, Chuck had found it best to stay away. In those days, his chest constricted whenever he heard her crying.

Those nights all she did was cry.

_The bed behind him dipped, and Chuck opened his eyes to see Blair kneeling beside him. She raised her arms to the ribbon tying her nightgown up and deliberately pulled at both ends. Chuck's nostrils flared as the heavy material dropped around her thighs. Blair reached out her hands and drew the strings of his pajama pants. Then, she placed one leg on the other side of his hips._

_Chuck held his breath when she reached down and pulled at his bottoms. He had only just told her moments before that he was leaving, and even now as she gazed at him with a silent plea, he could not refuse her. His hands settled around her waist. He sucked in his breath when she took him in her hands, then threw her head back_

_Blair positioned herself above him and released a long sigh as she slowly sank her body onto his. Chuck swallowed as he felt himself surrounded by her moist, liquid heat._

" _Blair," he moaned._

_She moved her hips around, and he thrust inside her. With firm hands, he lifted her up, almost until he was completely out of her, then suddenly drew her back down. Blair gasped half in pleasure and half in pain._

_She bit down on her lip. "Chuck," she breathed. When she moved to lift herself up, Chuck held firm and did not allow her to. "Chuck," she cried out._

_He rose up on his elbows, then sat up on the bed. The jarring sensations elicited a bolt of pleasure so intense that she grasped at the sheets on either side of her legs. "Look at me."_

_Blair tried to push up by her knees, but when he still held on, she gave in. Blair looked down and met his gaze with her tearful ones. His hand cupped her cheek, and he drew her face close so that their mouths latched and he parted his lips, drawing her lower lip into his mouth._

" _I need you," she gasped against his mouth. Blair squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear trickled down the corner of her left._

" _I need you," he returned. "Always."_

_And she sobbed. "You're lying!" Blair rose up on her knees and slammed herself down. He grunted at the exquisite pain._

" _Never."_

_He placed his hands back firmly around her waist, then quickly turned them over so that Blair lay down beneath him, her feet planted firmly on the mattress. She caught her breath, and lost it when he surged forward inside her, even deeper._

" _I'm losing you," she cried as she bit onto her shoulder in her release._

" _You have me," Chuck promised as he jerked his hips forward even as her muscles tightened around him, squeezing him. "Now." He drew back, then pumped in. "Always." His seed flooded inside her, and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. "Please, Blair. Let them go."_

The knock on the door was quiet, and he would have missed it had he not been so lost in silence. Chuck did not bother with a robe. He walked towards the door and peered into the keyhole. At once, upon seeing his visitor, he pulled the door open.

From the moment he realized what her plan was, he had been afraid that she would be tempted by the white powder too much to finish what she had set out to do. He should have known better than to doubt her. Still, he pulled her into his arms and buried his lips in her hair.

"Blair, I thought I'd lost you."

"That was more than a year ago," she answered softly. And then she pulled away from him. "Now I need something. But first, no talking."

And that was when he first assessed the image that she had brought. Gone were the jeans and the shirts that she had taken to wearing, the ones that despite how beautiful she looked, never seemed to fit right on Blair Waldorf. Now she wore something more familiar, and it was as if he had stepped back into a past where she was the same girl he adored and they were in his suite, in a juicy secret they would share with no one.

But the look in her eyes told him much more.

"No talking," he said, because her eyes told him more than her tongue ever would.

She had come dressed to the end the way she had to the beginning.

Tonight, after this interlude, she would end it all. In her eyes, in her silent question, she asked him if he could give her this one last moment.

Chuck reached for her hand and drew it up to his lips. He pulled her close and drew her body against his. Blair pulled her hand away and pulled the dress off her body, then tossed it to the floor behind her. He saw the tears in her eyes, and they were tears of anger, of betrayal, of grief, of all the pain that she felt that she had never been able to show him, because he had already left.

And this, this was all that she wanted, that she ever could, share with him now.

She turned away from him, then faced the windowsill. She unsnapped her bra and it fell on the floor as well. And then, she hooked her fingers on her panties. His hands stopped her. If there was no talking, then he would say it in words. Chuck knelt behind her and slowly drew down her underwear. He placed kisses on the path of the skin from the backs of her thighs to the backs of her knees.

If this was the only way to say them, then this was the way he would take.

He heard her sigh as she laid her forehead against the glass window. Chuck created a burning trail back up her thighs. When he reached the heated center, she caught his face with her hands. She turned around to face him, then pulled him up to his feet. Her eyes commanded that he stop the nonsense. And then she turned around and bent. He laid his body against hers and bit the nape of her neck. And then, with his hands on her hips, he pushed inside her.

"Aaah." Blair pressed her heated forehead harder against the cold glass window. Her hand reached up to grab the window frame.

This was the last time, he thought. She was treating it like the last time. Blair gasped audibly at each pump of his hips. With one of her hands he drew his higher from her hip to her breast. With each small scream that escaped her, Chuck knew that she allowed herself the freedom the very reason he had determined. And a man who had fallen in love could only take so much knowledge. He pressed his face into her nape and felt the tears.

He grunted into her ear. Rule or not, if she could treat this as the last, then he could not regret being free. "I love you," he cried out in release. Blair collapsed against him with her own climax and he caught her by her elbows.

When she caught her breath, she pulled herself up stiffly and regarded him. "I said no talking," she reminded him.

Chuck pulled up his pants. As he tied the string, he asked, "Why do you get to make the rules?"

Blair turned away. She bent to pick up her bra and dress, and Chuck noticed his seed on her thighs. He nodded towards the bathroom. When she stepped out, she was prim and proper, her hair perfect, as if nothing had happened.

"Where are you going?"

Blair forced a smile on her lips. "I have a show to do," she told him.

Chuck frowned. "Just like that?" he asked. "You come and you get what you want, and then you walk out."

She raised her head. "This time, I'm the one who gets to leave." She walked towards the door.

"I never wanted to leave you," he admitted.

Her hand stopped on the knob. She turned her head. "I'm sorry if I find that hard to believe given that you did leave. After I begged. I was down on my knees."

He shook his head. "It was the only way I knew to save us. It was the only way they told me I could bring you back."

"What?" she said breathlessly.

Chuck walked towards her. "Blair, did you think that after I chased you, after I told you I loved you, after we agreed to spend the rest of our lives together, I could leave just like that?"

When she dissolved, her beautiful face seemed to melt, and she hung her head and said in a small voice, "That's what you did." She held her stomach with her hand, as if she were in physical pain.

"I would never have abandoned you. I watched so closely, but then you were gone." He squeezed her hand. "I would never have let anything happen to you."

She shook her head, then wiped at her eyes. "Pity you can't ever prove it now." She met his eyes. "I can't live with this much hurt hanging over me every hour, every day. This was my goodbye."

He nodded his head slowly. "I know." When she placed her hand back on the knob, he caught her wrist. "But this is what I want you to remember. This pain that you don't want is reality. I'm real. And I made mistakes and I'm ready to make it right." He shook his head. "No matter how beautiful dreams are, Blair, they will never compare to what's real."

"You haven't seen my dreams," she answered. Blair pulled the door open.

"They aren't them," he said. "Don't cheat yourself." He took her hand. "We can take back everything we've lost—the wedding, a family, a life. Everything we planned for, everything we lost since Serena."

"You're telling me to put my faith in you. Again. After everything?"

"What else do you have to lose?"

She looked back at him. Blair moistened her lips and for the first time, it almost seemed like there was life in her eyes. "We'll see."

That night, Blair Waldorf walked up into the spotlight, center stage, dressed his a long white dress, wearing angel wings and a silver halo. It was, in the books, the most scandalous striptease yet. The crowd was eager and the owner grinned proudly at his star.

Her smile, when the doors were kicked in and the police flooded the bar, was the most erotic she had given the audience. The spotlight dimmed, and then she could see the bar clearly. The moment the raid begun, Allan looked up at Blair and knew that she had set up a game so carefully he had fallen into the trap.

Her manager, Daniel Humphrey, rose from his seat and started taking photographs.

The police converged around Allan, and for a long moment, Daniel watched his hand fly to his side and raise a gun towards the stage.

Blair watched in horror as Chuck stepped out of the shadows. He launched himself towards Allan. The club owner turned the barrel towards Chuck. Blair jerked herself when the gun went off, and Chuck fell heavily onto the chairs. She ran towards the scene.

The police had jumped onto Allan and dragged him away.

Blair pulled Chuck up onto his lap, sobbing at the sight of the blood that stained his shirt.

"Hey," he choked. "Dammit. I thought it was a flesh wound. At least my angel is pretty, and looks a lot like the love of my life."

Blair sniffled, then looked up to see Dan walking towards them with his camera. "Did you get everything?" she demanded.

Dan nodded, marveling at how even his months of planning had not led to the fast arrest. "Everything," he confirmed with disbelief.

"Then ask the police where the paramedics are!" She turned back to Chuck, and saw his eyes fluttering closed. "Chuck?" she called softly. "Chuck Bass, don't die."

He drew a deep breath, then hissed in pain.

_Right in front of him, he saw her crumble. Her stance relaxed, and she stepped forward and clutched at his shirt. "No. No, Chuck, you can't leave me now."_

_He pulled her hands away from his shirt. "Tell me you'll let this go, and we will move on with our lives." She met his eyes, and he could tell, by the way she searched his expression, that she was looking for a way out. "Promise me, Blair. Promise me we'll move on with our lives."_

She leaned over his body, then whispered, "If you die now, I'll drown."

When they took him away, she hurried to her dressing room and changed into her casual clothes. There was no call to appear in the hospital in an angel's costume. Blair grabbed her bag and hurried to the door. And then, she turned around and walked back to the vanity. She pulled open the drawer and took the vial, then slipped it inside her bag.

tbc

* * *

**Chapter 7: Chapter 7**

* * *

AN: Other stories I will end and say it was in turns happy and sad. This story was mostly sad. But you kept on, and you stuck with it, so I want to thank you. Please continue reading my other fics – Yesterday's Roses and Against the Dying of the Light.

Part 7

The hours were long as she stood in the far off corner of the waiting room. Beside her, Dan leaned his head back against the wall. His eyes were on her, and she could tell that questions whirled in his head. Over the months she had gotten to know Dan Humphrey when he believed it was he who had started to understand her.

Not once, she supposed, could he ever have predicted that Blair Waldorf had plans of her own.

"It didn't happen how you planned," she said quietly, "but it happened. You got what you wanted—Serena's killer behind bars."

He sighed, then shut his eyes. "I thought when I finally saw Allan dragged away by the police, I would feel better."

She turned her head, regarded him under heavily lidded eyes. "And?" she prompted, even thought she knew the answer. She felt the same way.

"It doesn't feel any different."

She gave a quick, curt nod. "It doesn't change a thing. They're still gone."

"This is all about Serena," Dan reminded the woman who had become his friend. "That is what this is, Blair." If Chuck was right, Blair Waldorf had turned the mission into so much more, into something that Dan could never touch, into something he never intended. She would have turned it into something he was not allowed to enter. "And we did it. We got him."

She gave a small smile that did not reach her eyes, barely moved her cheeks. "All about Serena," she whispered.

" _Miss Waldorf, I know that it's a difficult time for you."_

_Idly, Blair wondered what the obstetrician knew about her circumstances. And then she remembered that along with Serena van der Woodsen's tragic death, portions of Blair's story had made their way into national broadcast._

" _Here." The doctor scribbled on a sheet of paper, then slipped it across the desk towards Blair._

_She turned cold eyes at the doctor. "I'm pregnant. I don't need a shrink."_

_Doctor Myers pursed her lips, then looked down at Blair's chart. "For the past two weeks you've come to me with spotting. Your stress levels are through the roof. You need to see someone or one day, you are going to lose the baby." She paused, because she had known Blair Waldorf for years, and knew there was only one way to convince her. "Does your fiancé know about this?"_

" _Nothing escapes Chuck. He would notice when I haven't had my period for three months."_

" _How about the bleeding?"_

_Blair frowned, "He has too much to worry about for me to add to his plate."_

_The doctor's voice was firm. "He needs to know what's happening, Blair. You need to calm down and tell him what's going on in your head. This baby is in danger, and the two of you need to sit together and figure out how to deal with this."_

"If only it were all about Serena," Blair confessed, "maybe it would have been easier to let it go."

Dan drew a shuddering breath, because in this, he had failed. He had allowed himself to be so blinded by his thirst for the truth and for revenge that he never noticed the woman standing beside him. It should have been clearer to him, Blair's motives. He was a writer, and the first thing they taught was to watch people, read expressions, interpret words and gestures and build stories for each and every one of them.

Blair Waldorf's story could have told itself, if he only closed the book he had begun and allowed himself to read between her lines.

And then she smiled, "Not by much."

And he was filled with the overwhelming need to apologize, for taking her into his world and involving her when she was not prepared, so far from ready to deal with another person's pain. "Blair, whatever happened between you and Chuck, after Serena… You should know that it wasn't your fault."

"I know," she said, her voice hollow. Blair's gaze turned up to him. "I never thought it was."

"And your baby—" Her eyes shut so swiftly, and her face grew red. "It wasn't—"

She released a pained sob. "No. Not that. No conversations about that."

"One day, you will need to talk about it," he advised. She nodded silently, then quickly brushed a hand across her cheek. "I want you to know I'm going to be here."

Three hours later, they were informed that Chuck Bass could receive visitors. It was the only cue Dan waited for, and he murmured an encouragement to his friend. He wrapped his arms around Blair and kissed her cheek.

"It's the end of an era," he said gently. "And God, am I glad it ended."

Blair nodded, then smiled sadly at Dan. High school was a planet away and not once, back then, did she ever think that the day would come when she and Dan Humphrey would stand together with the same goal, the same pain, the same reward. "Where are you going now?" she asked, knowing that when she stepped out of Chuck's room, Dan would be gone.

He shrugged. "I'll be searching for a story. There's always a story out there." His eyebrows furrowed. "I really hope I just write fiction forever. True stories kill me."

Especially, she thought, when it was about love and death.

She tightened her embrace around Dan, then walked towards Chuck's room without looking back. She took a deep breath before she placed a hand on the knob and pushed the door open. Blair stood by the doorway for a long time as she gazed at him. The only consolation was, and for the first time in a long while, she felt she had bee given a gift, he was awake, alert, and God, he was so alive. She could not help the sob that rose in her throat.

He turned at the sound, and Chuck sat up in the bed. She saw the effort that it took, and hurried to his side. He cupped her face, and she turned her head so that she could place a kiss in his palm. "I hope I didn't worry you too much." In response, tears slipped from her eyes and drenched his hand. "Blair," he said softly.

She took a deep breath, then another. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"No," he breathed.

"I killed her."

He frowned, confused, but even without knowing what it was she referred to, he knew the words should never leave her lips, could not be true in any permutation. "Of course you didn't," his voice rasped.

"Everything was so perfect before Serena. And the she was gone and I was gone," she said in a rush. He pulled her to his arms. This time, there was no anger, and it almost seemed as if they could make sense of the last year and a half. Always, when they collided, she came to him furious and he returned with defense. This time, the quiet melancholy seemed to work. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I'm sorry I lost the baby."

His tongue thickened and his throat worked furiously. The baby he could not talk about so easily, and it seemed to be the one thing in her mind. Never once had she apologized for the miscarriage. And he had never asked it, never thought she needed to. But those words coming from her mouth now… It was the first time he realized—he wanted to hear them, if only to know that she still thought of him, or her. "Accidents happen, Blair," he said like a litany memorized from childhood.

Her breath trembled like shaken inside a box. "I lost her when I lost myself, and I wasn't willing to come back." She shook her head. "I would have lost you today because I couldn't let it go."

_When he came home that day, she was asleep in his bed still wearing the floral summer dress, wearing her green pumps to bed. He should have known, because she was lazy these days. Chuck had prepared himself for a fight. Before he even turned the knob to open the door to the suite, he had psyched himself to respond to her accusations or deflect anything she would throw at him._

_He had been late to the bridal shop and she had been a bitch, like she always was, and for the life of him, he could not even remember anymore what exactly they fought about. He already knew she was a bitch. She had just riled him at how much bitchier she had been just because he was twenty minutes late._

_But the sight of her looking so exhausted that she could not even change for bed was enough to loosen his shoulders. Chuck relaxed his stance and by her feet. He reached out and pulled her shoes off and allowed them to drop to the floor._

_She stirred and Blair blinked up at him sleepily. "You're home."_

_And he was, whether or not he was at the Palace, as long as he was close to her. "Yeah." She bit her lip, and he knew he was the one she expected to say it this time. It had become ritual now, with every large blowout, they took turns ending it even, without even finding out who started it. "I'm sorry."_

_She smiled contentedly. "Go to the bathroom," she instructed. "I left something for you in there."_

_He made a face. "That's gross, Waldorf!"_

" _Just do it," she said in a commanding voice she reserved usually for Dorota._

_Chuck heaved himself up from the bed and walked the short distance to the bathroom door. He vanished inside the bathroom, and looked around until he saw the same plastic contraption sitting on the sink. He picked up the thin plastic strip, then exited gripping it in his hand. "Are you kidding me?"_

_She shook her head. "What do you think?" Her eyebrows rose. "You should have suspected there was a reason I was so short-tempered."_

" _I've known you for decades. That's natural."_

_She sat up in the bed and threw her pillow at him. He caught it to his stomach, then pulled her to his embrace. "This is perfect," he said against her lips. "Mr and Mrs Bass, with a Bass bun in the oven. Our wedding had to be gossip-worthy."_

"It's done, and I want my life back," she told him.

"Let's get it back," he said in his fervent voice.

"But I don't know if I'll ever be the same."

"I'm not the same," he said. It would be too predictable if we were the same two people coming in and we were coming out of it."

She sat now beside his hospital bed and reached out to tentatively touch the bandage that wrapped around his stomach. And then she bent and pressed a kiss against the hot skin above his wound. Blair closed her eyes and sighed. "There's one thing that didn't change, couldn't change even if I tried to."

He buried his fingers in her hair as he watched her press brief, butterfly kisses at the edges of the bandage. "What didn't change, Blair?"

"When I loved you," she whispered, and kissed his hot skin, "I loved you." Blair pressed a kiss now on his chest. "When I hated you," she raised her head then met his eyes, "I still loved you."

His lips curved, and he looked warmly down at her. "Never changes."

"It doesn't look like it ever will," she breathed.

Chuck nodded. He took her hand and looked down at her bare finger where his ring used to be. "What do you say?" he asked. "Can you trust me that I will never leave you, not again? Not if they drag me away? I'll keep coming back."

Her answer was wordless, and meant more to him than any promise she could have made. Blair drew her hand away and opened her bag. Her hand was fisted when she placed it over his outstretched palm. He felt the cold glass before he even saw it. And then she drew her hand away and met his eyes intently. Chuck looked down at the white powder that started the dissolution of his perfect life and ended Serena van der Woodsen's fantasy. Blair licked her lips. "A trade," she said.

"White heaven," he murmured, recognizing the gesture.

"Will you give me a life that can compare to what that can?"

Chuck looked down at the cursed vial, then with a quick, violent movement that he was sure ripped some of his stitches, he slammed it against the wall. The glass shattered and mixed with the powder, rendering the drug unusable. And even if she were the one who surrendered it, Blair still gasped in shock. He said, "I can give you heaven." She raised her chin. "I can give you hell."

Her eyes closed and she felt tears rising.

"That's what it means to be alive," he emphasized.

Once upon a time, Blair Waldorf's life ended in the church, during Serena's funeral, in a cathedral that smelled of fragrant flowers, adorned in the same powder blue as the motif that Blair had bothered to pick out. When Blair Waldorf's life began again, it was nothing grand or spectacular. There were no cameras flashing, no reporters waving microphones under her nose.

Instead, Blair Waldorf's life began in a starless night, inside a small hotel suite with only Eleanor Waldorf and Bart Bass in attendance. Eleanor had protested, because Blair was her only daughter and she had wanted to dress Blair up like a mannequin for the most precious confection she could design. Bart had offered to pay their way through Europe, so that they could find the perfect wedding location. But his suite, in that dark night, was the only wedding that seemed to make sense to her then.

"This way, we start our life together just when the dawn breaks," Chuck shared.

"We do everything for the first time as a married couple just when the sun starts to rise," Blair added. "What could be better?"

Someday, her heart would sink when she remembered that there was no big wedding, Chuck supposed. Blair Waldorf, changed or not, would always be the Blair Waldorf he had become obsessed with in high school.

On their first wedding anniversary, Chuck presented her with a box. The card sat prettily on top, and she read it out loud, "No regrets." Carefully, she uncovered the box. Her eyebrows furrowed at the contents. She took the slip of paper and on it were names that she was no longer familiar with. There was a snapshot of a quaint church in Italy. And then there were sketches upon sketches of gowns, and tuxes, and little dresses. There was a photograph of Eleanor holding out a white billowy gown. She smiled, puzzled, at her husband. "What?"

He grinned at her, then drew her to him for a brief kiss. "I'm not going to let it come to the point when you ask yourself why you never got a proper wedding."

"We're married."

"Well, happy anniversary," he greeted. "And your gift is a real wedding. Next month in Rome, and we're inviting everyone. Even Dan Humphrey."

"Oh my God!" she laughed. "Chuck, that is so amazing." Blair leaned towards him and placed a kiss on his lips.

He drew her against him and closed his eyes, breathed in her scent. Every time, he suspected that someone had slipped him white heaven, and this was just one big long freakish trip. If it were, pour him a gallon so he would never wake up. "Try topping that, Waldorf."

"You will never learn," she chuckled. Blair drew a folded envelope from her pocket and presented it to him.

"A check?" he said wryly. "You really didn't have to."

"Shut up," Blair said lovingly.

Chuck opened the envelope and drew out the slip of paper. His wide gaze flew to hers. She smiled and nodded. Chuck placed the paper carefully inside the envelope and then put it in her wedding box. He placed his hand on her stomach.

"My mom hates alterations," she whispered.

"Oh I bet she can live with it."

fin


End file.
